The Problem With Spitting
by RussianDestruction
Summary: Hermione is already stressed and frustrated, and Snape's constant belittling of her academic efforts is the straw that broke the camel's back. After retaliating inappropriately in class one day, she wonders what punishment he has in store for her.
1. The Incident

**A/N: JKR is the genius, not me. I do not own any of her original characters, nor am I profiting from this work of fanfiction in any way.  
**

**Warnings: Language, Adult Themes, Adult Content, Angst, Anger, Lemons. **

**Also: in this story, Hermione is 17, and hence is of-age to engage in sexual intercourse with another adult. HOWEVER COMMA BUT: while we know from Hermione's thoughts that she is indeed willing from moment one, Snape does not, and his determination to have her regardless could very well be seen as a whisper of rape. If this bothers you, therefore, I beg you to refrain from reading this story.**

**I am apparently incapable of writing oneshots that are completely PWP. I tried really hard, but despite my best efforts, Hermione's character and inner dialogue kept fleshing themselves out. Grrr. So this will be a two-shot minimum, three-shot maximum.**

**NOTE: Edited after receiving many helpful suggestions from my readers. As much as I wanted this to be very descriptive and flowery (that's my style) I DIDN'T want it to read quite like a "cliched bodice ripper", so I've tried to edit some of the overly descriptive phrases out, as well as add more background descriptions (the door locking in part two and the desk leg in part three are for you, Insearchofsunrise!)**

HG/HG/HG/HG

Hermione looked up at him, tears of rage trembling at the brink of her vision, resentment bubbling through her. How dare he? It wasn't that she was unaccustomed to his caustic remarks, but with the term she was having, she really just wanted to punch the sneer right off his face. That she was on the verge of breaking down merely upset her more.

She couldn't remember the last time she had been this upset with her teacher. The constant stream of his vitriol infuriated her on a daily basis, just as it did the rest of her classmates, but she had always ensured she kept a lid on it. Calling on her innate desire to see the good in people, she had done her level best to see past Snape's flaws, and to appreciate what he did best: drill knowledge permanently and effectively in the brains of students.

Now, however, she had had it. She had absolutely had it, and she was done putting up with it. This was the cherry on top of the shit sundae that had become her life. Honestly, she was dealing with enough already. Her one-time crush constantly eating the face of one of the most vapid girls she had ever had the misfortune of knowing? Check. A pandering, political professor constantly trying to "collect" her? Check. Big, bumbling bear of a boy, in whom she hadn't the slightest interest, trying to get in her knickers? Check. The unfounded conviction of one of her best friends that a certain blonde Slytherin was the root of all evil? Check.

And the clincher? Aforementioned best friend cheating his academically-challenged way to the top of the class via suspicious book.

She was over it. She was sick of working hard, putting in honest-to-goodness sweat and effort, and coming up second for her pains.

Her first attempt at today's defense spell was "passable", was it? Passable? She'd show him passable, the insufferable, malicious git. She was his best student, and he couldn't see past his own house ties. It was the latter half of her sixth year. Would it kill him to acknowledge the true level of her competence at this point? Just once? Especially seeing as she had always defended him to her friends, admonished them for treating him with disrespect, and tried to focus on the good in him, as she tried to do with everyone else in her life? She wasn't asking for the moon or the stars here. Just one little bit of honesty.

In retrospect, she couldn't remember coming to the decision to spit in his face, probably because her brain hadn't been involved in the slightest. There was too much anger in her for that. One minute she was watching as he stood over her desk, smirking lips curling to unleash yet another cutting one liner, and the next, she had simply let loose.

She didn't know what made her do it. She had wanted to snap back at him, snarl something enlightened that would illustrate her rightness and his wrongness and make the world right again, but she hadn't been able to make her lips cooperate to form words. As soon as she did it, she knew it was a mistake of epic proportions. She would have been less frightened if he had reared back, roared at her, or even retaliated physically. As it was, the way he slowly redirected his cold, glittering eyes to her face, her spittle still trailing down his cheek, made her blood run cold. Vaguely, she was aware of the hush in the classroom, as every student fixated his or her gaze on the professor, waiting for his reaction. Even Ron was completely and utterly silent, his tall form stiff with tension beside her.

"That was a mistake, Miss Granger," he hissed between his teeth, cold eyes raking over her.

_No shit,_ she thought. _I actually want to live to see twenty._

Her stomach clenched, and she squirmed on the bench, pressing her legs together as his heady nearness made the familiar ache gather deep inside her. Her inner walls clenched desperately down on nothingness, and she fervently prayed he was unable to smell her arousal as wetness seeped from her, soaking her knickers.

He sneered down at her, slim nostrils flared, pale face livid with anger. Slowly and deliberately, holding her gaze, he passed the cuff of his robes over his face, removing the traces of her loss of control.

Hermione knew she should probably start groveling right about now. She didn't think that even Dumbledore would find a way to excuse this, and as the enormity of what she had done sunk in, she knew she deserved whatever punishment Snape felt inclined to mete out. A contrary part of her rejoiced in her small act of retaliation, feeling that the injustices of the last six and a half years had been at least partially redressed, but even through this weak sense of accomplishment, she had to suppress a rather violent shudder. What was he going to do to her? It took all her Gryffindor bravery to continue to meet his cold appraisal, but meet it she did, pushing out her small chin for good measure. Yes, she had not conducted herself appropriately, but neither had he, and his lack of attention to common civility had been going on for much longer than her momentary lapse of sense.

Through the fog of apprehension, she realized he was speaking to her, and forced herself to focus on his words.

"...will remain behind after class, Miss Granger." He had growled the words in her ear, bending low over her, and as he rose and swept away, she was left with a lingering scent of herbs, sandalwood, and a spice reminiscent of saffron. More wetness pooled between her legs. The curious mixture of hatred and lust which he had inspired in her for the better part of the last year intensified at the low, rich tones of his silk voice, and she shuddered.

Stunned, she looked down at herself after he moved away, and took stock of her current condition. In amazement, she noted that she still had all four limbs, was not noticeably maimed, and had not lost her house hundreds upon thousands of points. She knew she was one of the students the Professor disliked most, so the fact that he had passed up on this golden opportunity to destroy her in front of the class made her extremely apprehensive about what he had in mind for after.

Judging by the looks on the faces of those around her, particularly Ron and Harry, the rest of the class also thought she had managed to cheat death. It being Snape's class, of course, no one dared to discuss Hermione's unprecedented insolence even in whispers, but it was quite clear that every single student was shell-shocked.

The rest of the lecture passed by in a bit of a blur for Hermione. She had expected him to explode at her, rage, maybe even dismiss her from the class with disgrace, and his rather contained display of anger was extremely frightening.

Potential repercussions for her thoughtless action marched through her mind, each more dreadful than the last. Periodically, she stole glances at the Professor, who swept through the classroom like Mephistopheles himself. With every glance, Hermione felt her fear multiply tenfold, along with the wet heat between her thighs. Every one of his movements was grace personified, and he seemed to slither sensuously between the rows of benches. Although she hardly had a wealth of experience, Hermione was no virgin, thanks to the hungry attentions of Viktor Krum back in fourth year, and therefore knew very well what she was feeling for her professor. The fact that her body responded to him despite his cruel and viciously biased treatment of her made her all the angrier.

_What the fuck is going through that greasy head? _She shuddered, realizing that she probably didn't want to know.

**I think we all know what Snape has in mind... Don't forget to review!**


	2. A Proper Use

**A/N: Here is where the "whisper of rape" comes in. I know a lot of people dislike "she was being raped, but then she started to like it" stories. This is not one of those! However, as I warned previously, the fact that Snape doesn't know Hermione is willing, and is still determined to have her could be offensive to some. If you are "some", please stop reading here. =)**

**H'okay. If you're still with me: the (VERY LEMONY) lemon begins here. Other warnings: language and coarse terms for body parts (c-word, etc). I think that's it!**

**I still don't own HP. =(**

SS/SS/SS/SS

Snape could hardly wait for the end of the class period. He had been noticing Miss Granger's headlong leap into womanhood for months now, noting the plump breasts, slender waist, and lusciously rounded hips, and now she had given him the opportunity he craved. The little chit. How dare she spit in his face? He would punish her. Oh, yes. His mouth watered at the thought.

For years, he had wanted to discipline her for her know-it-all attitude and propensity for interrupting his lectures, although his urge to do so had always entailed strictly non-sexual fantasies of stuffing her latest thirty page parchment into her mouth (her missives took _forever _to grade!), stringing her up from the dungeon ceiling by her fingernails, and berating her for hours upon end in blissful silence with absolutely no interruptions. It was only recently that he had begun to imagine other, much more delicious ways of silencing her.

Her action had been completely unexpected, cowed as she always seemed to be by him. In fact, her little act of defiance aroused him greatly, although he would never let her know that. That would be to encourage such behavior, and he was still an educator, albeit one with extreme flaws and questionable morals. It was refreshing to see her stand up for herself, even if her newfound ability to express anger had taken the form of a massive wad of spittle launched directly at his face. If there was anything he loathed more than a know-it-all, it was a doormat, and today, Hermione Granger had officially left _that_ title behind her.

Oh, but she wasn't to be allowed to escape from this little indiscretion unscathed. A plan formulated in his mind. Being the son of a consummate abuser and wife-beater, he did not get off on degrading women, although he did enjoy a certain amount of power play and domination. He did, however, want to humiliate the girl as he slaked his lust on her. He had the powerful urge to strip Miss Granger of her academic veneer, of everything she held onto as a security blanket, and leave her feeling raw and exposed, both physically and emotionally. He–her hated and despised teacher–would tease her and touch her and stimulate her until she was mindlessly begging him to take her, and only then would he lay wand to her. Imagining what she might look like in the throes of passionate frustration made his upper lip curl into an animalistic sneer.

His cock was throbbing, and he pressed the heel of one large hand against the thick bulge, applying enough surreptitious pressure to enable him to think somewhat clearly. He had no idea what she thought of him, and he didn't much care. He was sufficiently skilled in the sexual arts to render him more than capable of dragging cries of fulfillment from her ripe young body, willing or not. In his experience, he had found that forced orgasms were all the more erotic. He did not do rape, although there was a fine line between that and the type of behavior he wanted to engage in with Miss Granger. It was a line he enjoyed walking, however. She would not be unwilling. Far from it. He would make her want it. Make her scream for it.

Watching her bent over her books with a slightly dejected air, it was all he could do not to dismiss the class early so that he could have his way with her. He pushed that tantalizing thought away, however; such an odd action on his part would not go unnoticed, and would undoubtedly have problematic ramifications. All he needed was for Dumbledore to barge through his wards to determine what had happened to him, only to discover him buried in a student. No. He was more than capable of waiting, and wait he did.

The instant that the minute hand of the clock reached the hour, however, he growled a dismissal to the class, and the cowed students scrambled over themselves in their eagerness to remove themselves from his presence. Before the last one was out the door, he was making his way smoothly to Miss Granger's desk, and the instant the heavy _slam _echoed throughout the dungeon room, he was on her, bending over her desk with both palms flat on the surface.

"Insolent little bint," he snarled at her, as she leapt up in alarm. Growling deep in his chest, he backed her slowly up against the side wall of the classroom, relishing the fear that instantly made itself apparent in her wide chocolate eyes.

With an exaggerated movement of his hand, he cast a locking charm at the door. Normally he didn't telegraph the the spells he cast, but this was for effect. His intent was to terrify her, and it was quite clear that he had succeeded.

"Professor, I-I-" she stammered ineffectively, squealing with fright as she found hard stone at her back. Her eyes flicked to the now locked door, then back his face.

"You-you-_what?" _he hissed dangerously, slamming her against the wall with the full force of his lean, muscled body. She smelled delicious. She was soft, so fucking soft against him, and he was frantically hungry. His mouth watered, and his belly literally growled as though he were starving. "Talk fast, Miss Granger. I'm waiting."

She squirmed helplessly against him, and he ground his teeth on a moan as her struggles brought her writhing body in close and repetitive contact with his aching cock. Bringing his hand up to her throat, he gripped the smooth column none too gently, applying enough pressure to make her choke for air. Roughly, he yanked up her school skirt, grunting as his fingers slipped along the slickness of her inner thighs. The fragrance of her painfully obvious excitement wafted into the almost nonexistent space between their bodies, and he inhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring.

Being the experienced man that he was, he knew instantly that the girl was not only willing, but also eager. He had suspected it earlier in class, when he had caught a hint of something musky as he stood above her. He had dismissed it as too improbable, but he had been wrong. It wasn't just her body that was responding to him, either. She genuinely seemed to be enjoying his manhandling of her, if the glazed, burning look in her eyes was any indication.

He didn't know whether to feel disappointed that his ultimate sexual victory over her would be less satisfying, or ecstatic that he needn't waste time baiting her before bending her to his will. Literally.

"You little slut," he rasped at her, his heart pounding with frantic lust. "So wet, so juicy. Tell me, Miss Granger, do you like being pushed up against walls by your Professors?"

She made a little gasping sound, trying to get enough air to answer him, but he merely increased the pressure, smiling cruelly as she clutched desperately at his sinewy forearm, fingers clawing futilely.

"Don't strain yourself," he mocked her. "Your dripping little cunt is telling me everything I need to know."

He released his grip on her throat and she began to slump to the floor, taking in great gulps of air to fill her starved lungs. He helped her along her downward path with a firm push to the top of her head.

"Let's see what else your pretty mouth can do besides recite lengthy, irritating textbook answers to my questions," he growled, tearing at the straining buttons of his trousers. As his thick cock sprang out, he fisted his hand in her wild hair, and dragged her forward, ignoring her fright at his size.

"Open up," he demanded, tugging her head back till she gasped. Instantly, he shoved himself into her mouth with a groan of relief, his eyes nearly rolling back in his head as she began to apply suction to the mushroom head, her cheeks hollowing out as she sucked.

"Yesssss," he hissed, his voice gravelly, despite his best efforts at maintaining its usual silken tone. "Now _this _is an appropriate use for your saliva, Miss Granger."

**To be continued...**


	3. The Culmination

**A/N: All right, guys, here is the third, final, and considerably longer chapter in this smut-filled threeshot series. WARNINGS: crude words for body parts, to include the c-word, and BDSM themes. This is a very detailed and graphic lemon. Please do not read if this is not your cup of tea. Thank you in advance. :) **

**As always, I do not own JKR's characters or story. I am simply playing in her world, and am not making any money from this work of fanfiction.**

**EDIT: Ok. I've gone through and tried to pretty up some of the phrasing I used. I aim for perfection, people!  
**

**I'm considering splitting this third segment into two parts: the first one would still be Hermione's POV, but the second one would be Severus'. What do you think? Also, what do you look for in a good BDSM tale?  
**

HG/HG/HG/HG

As she sank to her knees at her Professor's feet, Hermione was in a daze, hardly realizing what was happening. As much as she had shamefully imagined something like this in her darkest fantasies, she had neither sought it out, nor ever expected it to come true. Her eager willingness, despite his treatment of her, tormented her. But–oh gods, his cock was so delicious! Hot and hard and long and thick, and he was rough, so wonderfully rough and demanding. Everything that the hesitant teens around her were not.

She was in turmoil. She wanted this–oh, how she wanted this–but she was also terrified. She was afraid, both of him and of her own reaction to him. It was hard to think, something she had never experienced before. Everything was a jumble in her mind as he pushed her to the hard stone floor, his normally sneering face flushed with something akin to feral lust. She couldn't process it. The only thing she could really focus on was the massive, thickly veined shaft jutting towards her.

Feeling oddly removed from the situation, Hermione stared dazedly. The hard length seemed to grow even bigger under her perusal, and she was dimly aware that she was whimpering. With what, she wasn't sure. Anticipation? Fear?

When he yanked her head back, forcing her to open to him, she engulfed him eagerly, not that she had any choice. Her lips were stretched to the point of pain, but she pushed the discomfort to a darkened corner of her mind, concentrating instead on the taste and texture of him in her mouth.

He growled hoarsely as she lapped at his sensitive head like an ice cream cone. Elation bubbled inside her at his reaction, and she did it again, determined to wring more of these sounds from the normally stoic man.

"That's good," he rasped, head thrown back with pleasure, eyes half-lidded. "You know just what to do with that pretty mouth. What a good little whore you are."

Hermione thrilled with a sense of accomplishment at his praise, but no sooner had her pussy thrummed with the sensuous frisson than her mind caught up with her body.

He had called her a whore! Suddenly angry that he would dare to say such a thing, and even angrier that the submissive throb it sent straight to her groin was not altogether unwelcome, she made as though to nip him with her teeth. Instantly, he jerked her head back so roughly that tears sprang to her eyes. Her cheek stung, and she realized incredulously that he had slapped her. Driven by fury, she raked her nails over the flesh of his pelvis, trying to gain purchase to pull away from his cock. The slap hadn't hurt-the echo in the classroom made it sound worse than it actually was, but it was the principle of the thing. Besides, she needed to do something to distract herself from the fact that she was dripping, sopping wet.

"Try that again, you little bitch, and I swear to Merlin above that I will make you pay," the dark man hissed through clenched teeth. Her fingernails had actually left behind bloody trails on his white flesh.

Shuddering, she curled in on herself protectively even as she accepted his invasion of her mouth. A vague sensation of shame was floating through her mind. She knew that this sort of treatment should not arouse her so, but he was too strong, too demanding, too...everything. She couldn't resist him. Her will was being overtaken with his.

"That's right," came his low, venomous purr as she struggled not to gag. "It seems I have found a way to silence you. Choke on my Slytherin snake, little Gryffindor."

He was thrusting into her mouth now, maintaining a harsh grip on her hair, dragging her up and down the length of him. Though not exactly a blushing virgin, Hermione didn't have enough experience to understand why all of this was causing her knickers to become so sodden. The rational part of her, which was faint but still present, told her that no respectable young witch should _like _being called filthy names while her considerably older teacher rammed his cock into her mouth. Some previously unexplored sexual part of her, however, was thrumming in approval, and clamoring for more.

The sounds he was making as she sucked him sent tremors through her, causing her to leak so much that she was worried she would leave behind a puddle on the floor. Her thighs were drenched. She, Hermione Jean Granger, was making the dreaded Severus Snape snarl with pleasure. His severe face was distorted with undoubtable lust, and the raw sexuality of it all made her clit throb and her belly clench. She was now past questioning her reaction to the dominant man, and it seemed that as soon as she gave up control and stopped searching for answers, her body relaxed in relief, growing even more sensitive and receptive in the process. Desperate for some relief, she reached between her legs to rub herself as she determinedly bobbed up and down on his massive organ, but he yanked her head back, disengaging her from his shaft with an extremely luscious _pop._

"You are not to touch yourself," came his deep voice. It was still silky, but there was a definite raw edge to it now. She whimpered in protest, but he talked over her. "You will do as I say, Miss Granger. Now, remove your hand from your overly greedy twat and continue to … _apply yourself_."

She moaned at his words. The timbre of his velvety voice seemed to skim along her over-sensitized nerve endings, and she attacked his swollen, veined erection with renewed eagerness, her frustration and anger fueling her actions. He was far too large for her to take all the way in, so she used her hands to pump the base of the shaft in tandem with her sucking. He grew bigger and bigger in her mouth as she licked at him, discovering what he liked and what made his balls tighten and draw up towards the base of his shaft. His hips began thrusting erratically, and low growls rumbled up from deep in his chest as he grew so swollen that her lips were stretched to the point of pain.

"Swallow it," he hissed down at her. "Swallow every fucking drop of my come."

Selfishly, he placed both hands on her head and forced her down on him, indulging in a low, drawn-out moan of pleasure as his entire length slid down her throat, causing her to choke and gasp. What seemed like a torrent of his white hot seed filled her mouth. It was salty and sweet, not at all unpleasant, and she drank it down obediently, only a very little escaping to drip down her chin.

After a moment, she withdrew, releasing his softening member and sitting back on her heels. The pressure between her legs was nearly unbearable, and she desperately craved friction. Still in a sensual haze, she blinked up at the dark man towering over her.

The Professor was a sight to behold. Strands of his dark hair were plastered across his face, and he looked to be, for once, bloody uncomfortable in his layers upon layers of black. He was breathing raggedly, his normally rigid facade slightly cracked as he leant back slightly against a nearby desk. His cock, though noticeably softer, still seemed incredibly intimidating to Hermione, resting as it was along the man's long thigh like a sleeping dragon.

By this time, Hermione's logical side had been almost completely smothered by her sexual side, and she really no longer gave a damn why the crotchety man before her was making her feel so depraved. Never in her life had she felt so animalistic. Never had she wanted to be taken, fucked, and utterly possessed by a man. Never had she felt so alive.

Slowly, she allowed her hand to creep beneath her school skirt. She pushed her mound against the heel of her hand, inadvertently letting a small whimper escape her lips as her clit reacted to the pressure. Just as she was getting into a slight rhythm, she heard his deep growl.

"Miss Granger, did I or did I not order you to refrain from frigging yourself?"

His dark eyes were blazing down at her. She shivered as she realized that every muscle in his long, lean body was tensed. He reminded her of a panther about to pounce on its prey, and she was only too willing to be that prey.

Suddenly, he straightened.

"Are you deliberately disobeying me, you foolish girl?" he thundered, closing the distance between them with two long steps.

She had hardly realized her hand was still buried beneath her skirt. It had simply felt good. So good.

Now, listening to him berate her, she shuddered. How was it that he made her feel this way? She had never heard him raise his voice before. He didn't need to. He was more than capable of terrifying a student into silence, and even tears, with a simple look. The perverse part of her kicked in again, telling her to push him, to see what he would do. To this end, she kept her hand beneath her skirt, simply looking up at him, pink lips parted enticingly and without guile.

"Get. Up." As she obeyed, rising to her feet with what she hoped was grace, he began to stalk her towards his desk, his opened trousers riding low on his hips. His cock was already beginning to fill again, lengthening against his thigh as she backed from him, fully aware of her disheveled state and rakish clothing. The contrast between the pale column of hardening flesh and the severe black of his clothing sent a jolt of excitement straight to her already ridiculously overexcited core.

It all happened too quickly for her to react. One moment, she was feeling the hard wood of his mahogany desk bumping against her bum, and the next she was lying flat on her back on said desk, an intricate system of knotted rope winding around her now completely naked body and securing her magically to the surface. He hadn't said a word.

His glazed eyes raked swiftly over her plump, creamy breasts, taking in the stiff little nipples. Hermione instantly became aware that the way in which the rope crisscrossed her body essentially pushed her breasts up and outward, presenting them to the dark Professor. She should have felt lewd, vulnerable, and even disgusted at being trussed up like this, but instead she felt oddly powerful, though still apprehensive. The look of lust on her teacher's face was unlike anything she had ever seen.

She tried moving an arm, only to find herself so effectively tethered as to make movement of the limbs impossible.

He chuckled darkly. There was no humor in the sound.

"You did away with the pleasure of freedom of movement when you disobeyed me, you little slut."

Helplessly, she writhed on the desk. There was just enough slack in the ropes that she could accomplish this one small thing, and she took full advantage, trying to press her thighs together to relieve the incessant throbbing of her clitoris.

With a vicious movement of his hand, the ropes securing her ankles instantly grew tighter, yanking her cringing legs wide. She was now completely spread for him. His hooded gaze dropped hungrily to her pink center.

"Oh, yes, you are a slut, aren't you?" He licked his lips. "I can see the cream dribbling out of your little hole, you depraved girl."

Now his hands were on her, sliding up her smooth legs, gripping her flesh, fingers digging into her.

"Say it," he hissed. "Tell me what you are."

She fought against his will as he dragged one long finger to the crease of leg and groin, sliding it sideways and dipping it into the molten fire between her thighs. He seemed to know exactly where she wanted to be touched, and studiously avoided that spot, instead tracing small circles around the very point of her neediness.

"Say it!" he spat, suddenly flicking the bundle of nerves. She shrieked at the sensation.

"Slut!" she gasped, desperate for him to continue to lavish attention on that spot. "I'm a slut!"

"Good girl," he purred. He resumed dragging that damned finger up and down her drenched vulva. "That wasn't so hard, now was it?"

She was thrashing now, or trying to. If he didn't penetrate her soon, she felt she might explode.

He rammed a finger suddenly inside her, watching her reaction through slitted eyes.

Her body instinctively bucked upward, trying to grind against the welcome invasion, but came up short against the restraints. At the same time, he withdrew his finger slightly, refusing to do anything more than thrust into her shallowly, and she realized she was pleading, begging her teacher to fuck her.

"Such language." Slowly, unhurriedly, he continued to slide his middle finger into her just to the second knuckle. "If only Minerva McGonagall could see you now: her little Gryffindor lioness, spread so willingly for the Head of Slytherin."

As always, the unique qualities of his voice inflamed her. Every word caressed her body as effectively as though he had run his hands over her. Every sibilant "s" had her squirming and panting her assent.

Grasping his now rock hard erection, he guided it to her mouth, jerking her head sideways when she didn't move quickly enough to suit his tastes.

Hermione moaned as he shoved himself roughly into her mouth. Her eyes watered as he thrust deeply once, twice, thrice, and then pulled out, his shaft dripping with her saliva. Helped along by gravity, the tears trickled down her cheek and splashed on the wood of the desk. The Professor grinned cruelly.

"You aren't the first witch to choke on me, Miss Granger, and I'm sure you won't be the last." He was on top of her now, his weight heavy on her petite body, but she welcomed it nonetheless.

He slammed into her without ceremony, and she let out a long, shrill scream as her inner walls finally had something upon which to clamp down. Lights went off behind her tightly closed eyelids as she hovered in a space near pain but beyond pleasure.

Grunting his own enjoyment, he pounded into her viciously, feeding her cries, until he had taken the edge off his frantic hunger. Then he slowed to deep, thorough thrusts that reverberated straight through Hermione's center.

"This is what happens to stupid little girls who think they can challenge me," he hissed dangerously in her ear, never ceasing his thorough reaming of her. Supporting himself on one arm, he tangled his free hand into her wild curls, gripping so tightly that tears once more sprang to her eyes. She felt the tightness of the ropes around her ankles vanish, and realized he had freed her from the waist down. Eagerly, she wrapped her legs around him, pressing her heels into his taut buttocks to urge him on.

"And yet you are enjoying it." He sneered down at her, and she moaned in helpless agreement, no longer able to deny it, even to herself. She was indeed enjoying it. She was being possessed by the darkness of her fantasies, and she was drowning in completion.

"Such a sweet cunt you have," he growled, increasing the speed of his thrusts. He released her hair, and braced both hands on the edge of the desk above her, the better to drive himself into her again and again. "Tight. Hot. Wet." He punctuated each word with a brutal thrust, and Hermione felt herself beginning to spiral towards her delirious apex.

The desk shuddered beneath the copulating couple, and Hermione was dimly aware of a cracking sound as one of the feet gave way. The result was that she slid backwards, head now tilting towards the ground. Snape didn't bother to fix it, and she began to grow lightheaded from the blood rushing away from her extremities. If anything, the sensation of floating on air only intensified her pleasure, as she felt herself sinking ever deeper into an unfamiliar, wonderful, hazy world.

"You aren't to come till I grant you permission." His words were like a whisper of silk next to her ear. Hermione mewled in frustration. How was she to hold back?

The wet, slapping sounds of his pelvis connecting with her overheated, perspiring body filled the room, contributing further to her sensory overload. Other than the loosened trousers, he still hadn't removed any of his clothing. His lust-twisted face and bared teeth were a sharp contrast to his usual inscrutable expression, and his still-buttoned suit, reminding Hermione of the illicitness of their activities, simply pushed her over the edge. It was all too erotic, too much. She couldn't hold back, she just couldn't...

She shattered around him, vaguely aware that she was shrieking, fingertips clawing into the surface of his desk. He didn't do her the favor of gentling his pounding assault on her body. If anything, he took her more savagely than before, giving her no chance to recover from the pulsing after-effects of her orgasm.

"You disobeyed me yet again, Miss Granger," he snarled. "This is for my pleasure, not yours. Do you hear that, you little whore? You're just a tight, wet hole for my cock."

"Yessss, Professor," she moaned, unable to help herself. She was rewarded with a low growl, and a calloused thumb stroking her parted lips. She licked the tip of the digit, and sucked it into her mouth, deliberately mimicking the sex act.

His breathing grew even more labored, and Hermione felt her inner walls begin to throb again. _Again? _she wondered. _I can't be coming again. _

She was wrong. She was indeed coming apart a second time, driven onward by the silky voice snarling filthy obscenities into her ear.

"Whose slut are you?" he was demanding of her, his strong arms reaching beneath her to grip her thighs and toss them over his shoulders. The altered position drove his considerable length even more deeply inside her, and she squealed as she felt him driving into her cervix.

"Yours!" she cried immediately. "I'm...your...slut, Professor!" The words were jerked out of her bouncing body as he speared her roughly. She was dimly aware of the multitude of essays and quills beneath her body. He hadn't bothered to clear the desk before initiating this, and she was fairly sure she would have marks up and down the length of her body. Her perspiration was no doubt completely ruining the essays. Hermione shuddered at the thought of students wondering at the origin of the smears on their parchment.

He gave a low groan of approval at her cooperation, bending down to capture a pink nipple in his mouth for the first time. Hermione felt the tension gathering to a head inside her as he sucked greedily at the sensitive tip. The pull on her breast connected directly with her dripping pussy, and she keened loud and long as she came on his swelling cock a second time.

Letting her tit pop out of his mouth, he began to take her in earnest. Perspiring, no longer bothering to try and conceal his gasping breaths, he fucked her like a madman, his face contorted in a grimace of lust.

"I'm going to come on your face," he rasped, and Hermione felt the now familiar frisson of hunger. She licked her parted lips, waiting for it eagerly. It didn't take long, now that he had unleashed himself fully. With a growl, he pushed both her legs to the side. Pulling out of her frantically, he gripped his purplish length in one large hand and directed the swollen, weeping tip at her face. She strained upward, licking the thick head, and he came with a snarl. Thick jets of his rich seed shot onto her waiting tongue, overflowing onto her cheeks and throat. Still ejaculating, he dragged his cock down her chest, pressing it against first one nipple, then the next, watching hungrily as the pink peaks became coated with his cream.

Sticky and sated, Hermione could only lie there, somewhat numb, and still very dazed. Sticking her tongue out as far as it would go, she tried to reach some of the residue on her face, wanting to taste more of him. He tasted slightly different than he had the first time, and the logical part of her resurfaced long enough to wonder why.

Almost immediately, the Professor withdrew, leaving her lying on the desk. Her labia were puffy from all the friction, and she flinched when he pulled out swiftly. With an almost negligent wave of his hand, he vanished the ropes, and restored her clothing. He had his back to her, and she guessed correctly that he was doing up his trousers.

By the time he turned back around, she had forced herself into a seated position despite her swollen lips. It wasn't exactly painful, but it was definitely uncomfortable. She shivered as she realized she wouldn't be able to sit for days without thinking of him. The look he turned upon her was impenetrable. He looked once more exactly like what he was: her dour Defense Professor.

"You are dismissed, Miss Granger."

Her mouth dropped open, but before she could even begin to speak, he cut her off.

"I will not repeat myself."

Disbelievingly, she slid from the desk. He smirked unpleasantly at the sight of her wincing slightly, although she did not see it. She was halfway to the door, coping with a veritable maelstrom of emotions, when she heard his voice again.

"Do not think I have forgotten about your disobedience during this little lesson. You will report for detention tomorrow at 8 in the evening."

She looked back. He was looking at her with those glittering dark eyes, and he flicked his gaze boldly over her body in a manner that left no doubt as to his intentions for her. Her insides jumped with a mixture of fear and anticipation as, with a shiver, she slipped out into the hall.

_完_

**I hope you got just as much of a kick out of this as I did writing it! ;) Feel free to drop me a review, or a PM if you're shy. :P**


End file.
